Dante DeVille is the lobbyist for Satan in American politics. However, new special interest groups compete for the souls and tax dollars of the American public, ranging from mad scientists, to alien invaders, to emo kids in giant robots, and worse.

Dante DeVille was one of the legendary and
sought-after political lobbyists on Capitol Hill. His official title
was a LIAR, or the Lobbyist for Infernal Affairs and Rituals.
Contrary to the popular belief, politicians didn't just sell their
souls to the Guy Downstairs. They tried to get credit on them, of
course. The real kicker always was they never paid attention to the
interest rates ("the Devil was in the details, after all"). The
souls of politicians rented to the Devil accumulated debt and
corruption faster than a lawyer could suck a man dry. And he was the
way that politicians got to the Boss.

Of course, there were plenty of other special
interest groups waiting the souls of politicians. The great thing
about politics was in every era, and in every nation, politicians
were like flies to the rear of a horse: Ready to feast on the crap
and avoid being swatted. Dante heard his cellphone ring. "Dante
DeVille speaking!" he said as picked it up.

"Dante, there's been some problems lately. Come
to my office whenever you get a chance," the unmistakable voice of
the Boss echoed.

With a slight shudder, Dante walked down the hall to
the Boss's place. Why the Boss always used his cell phone to call
the office next door rather than knocking or making an announcement
over the PA system was something he never understood. Then again, it
likely had something to do with the fact his office could not be
reached by most mortals. Dante opened the latest Proctor and Gamble
catalog, read the sequence of numbers on the back cover backwards,
multiplied them by zero, and added six-hundred sixty six. That
formula always gave the Boss's favorite number as a result. Idiotic
Satanists everywhere had no idea why. He then burned the offering of
a mutilated rabbit fetus in his ashtray and chanted "NATASLIAH!"
A giant red pentagram appeared, glowing in midair (the Boss always
was one for special effects), and the next thing he knew, Dante was
in the Boss's place.

Contrary to other popular beliefs, the Boss's place
wasn't a fiery pit of sulfur and brimstone (that was for permanent
'guests'). His office was decorated like most modern ones, except
for the variety of art on the wall. Instead of pictures or
photographs, the Boss kept all manner of goods the mortal world
called "Satanic" erroneously. There was Dungeons and Dragons
game books, Teletubby dolls (which even gave the Boss creeps),
Harry Potter books, and a book entitled "Necronomicon."

That one Dante didn't recognize until he saw the
tag on it, "Borrowed from Miskatonic University Library." It was
overdue for a few decades, since not returning library books on time
would be quite evil. Now, the Elder Ones weren't the only ones with
a copy of Abdul Hazred's delightful account of descent into
madness.

The Boss was there in his favorite outfit (so far as
an amorphous personification of evil incarnate had): He resembled a
clean-suited man with a smiley-face mask. "Dante, good to see you!"
he said, extending his hand. Dante shook the Boss's hand, and
asked, "So, Boss, what's the problem?"

"We've been getting some competition," the Boss
growled. "Political competition."

"From who? The Religious Right's been in our
pocket since…well, they started," Dante shrugged. "We all know
the Falwell Equation: External political religiosity and internal
corruption are directly proportional. What happened to him, anyway?
He was a great agent of ours."

"He's currently shoveling shit to Marquis de
Sade's place, so he'll have more writing material for his new
novel, 121 Days of Gomorrah,"
the Boss continued. "But our normal perversions of the Abrahamic
religions aren't the problem. They're better than ever, in fact.
The problem is some other special interest groups are trying to inch
their way onto our turf.
I need you to convince our potential clients to stay away from them."

"Boss, no one's tried to compete with our hold
over DC since the Sixties! Why now?" Dante asked.

"That's what I want you to
get to the bottom of," the Boss replied.

"Do we know what we're up against?" Dante
asked.

"Watch, and learn," the Boss grumbled as he
pushed a button on his desk. A projector screen dropped down, and he
dimmed the lights. "There's a few new lobbies we know of. First
is INSANE."

"Quite an acronym," Dante commented.

"It's short for the 'International Network of
Scientists without A Need for Ethics.' There's four main members
around the world, and they're mainly trying to get funding to push
the boundary on mad science for "Homeland Security." They might
prove useful under normal circumstances," the Boss explained. "But
the problem is their theological opinions, or specifically, lack
therefore off."

"Humanists of all sorts scare me. How do they hope
to accomplish anything without the help of the supernatural?" Dante
asked. "Are they Dawkinites, at least?"

"I wish," the Boss answered. "They range from
deists to atheists to agnostics to Buddhists, and other sorts of
humanists."

"Who's in charge there?" Dante inquired.

"They're a decentralized international movement,
with four primary leaders in their own secret lairs. We have Doctor
Will Moore of New York City, a specialist in cybernetics and
nanotech. His secret base is an old bomb shelter under New York City,
bought second hand from a retired super villain," the Boss
continued. "He's the main one in American politics. He's a
deistic libertarian Extropian cyborg with a gun fetish."

Dante absorbed the information. "How about the
others?"

"Well, there's three others, located in Europe,
Russia, and the South Pacific," the Boss explained. "The European
one was recently elected, despite being one of the founding members
of the organization. He was selected over some guy named Redrum, and
is quite renowned. His name is Doktor Johan von Schadenfreude, a mad
scientist of the classic sort."

"Classic sort? So, you mean, German accent, castle
in Eastern Europe, maniacal laughter, and the like?"

"Yup. He has a zeppelin, hunch-backed lab
assistant, and an army of clockwork automatons as well. He has a
steam fetish, I think," the Boss commented. "But enough on that.
The next one is a Russian mad scientist who's turned towards the
private sector since the Wall fell down. He's Doctor Nikolai
Molotov, operates from an undersea base, and likes electronic weapons
and death rays. He's on fairly good terms with the Russian Mafia,
so he's got some buddies even I don't want to mess with."

Dante shuddered for a moment thinking what would give
the Devil pause. "Who's the guy in the South Pacific?"

"He's a Singaporean-born Chinese scientist with a
base on a volcanic island. His name's Doctor Fuk Hing, and he has
plenty of genetic experiments protecting him. He's a Buddhist, so
we can't just blame him as "atheistic intellectual" in media
campaigns as easily. His network extends all across the Pacific, down
to Australia and up to Korea."

"What other groups?" Dante asked.

"Plenty. I'm just going through the ones we know.
There's plenty we don't, at this phase," the Boss continued.
"The other two are EMO and DIPS."

"What's EMO, other than a type of horrible music
and subculture for people who should kill themselves?" Dante
inquired.

"Let me guess. There's American and Japanese
pilots, all who are described as strong, but whine at the slightest
provocation?" Dante suggested.

"Exactly. Each also has a stereotypical robot
design. At this phase, there's three of them. The leader is
teenager kid named Gary Stu, and his robot is red and has a large gun
mounted on it to compensate for his…other shortcomings. His
sometimes love interest is Mary Sue, who has a pink robot that looks
like a ballerina with a giant staff. The last one is a Japanese guy
named Kenji To who has a yellow robot that looks like a suit of
samurai armor and holds a giant katana. There used to be a fourth
one, until his robot randomly exploded," the Boss explained.
"Accidentally, of course."

"Right. And the last one was the token black guy?"
Dante suggested. "Black robot, talked like a stereotype, and mainly
comic relief."

"Exactly. As for DIPS, we're still unsure. We
know they're called the Department of Inter-Planetary Security, and
they specialize in men-in-black, mind control satellites, cover-ups,
fluoridation of drinking water, and black helicopters. We don't
know who the bosses are, and we doubt they even know themselves. They
seem to be preparing for an alien invasion, last we heard," the
Boss said. "Like most bureaucracies, they're incapable outside of
their field of expertise. I mean, they mistook our demon warriors for
alien invaders, of all things. Our problem with them is the same with
EMO: They could both mistake we demons for aliens."

"And do we know if there actually are
any aliens?" Dante asked.

"We think so, and we know one of the people
involved," the Boss replied. "We know Elvis was one of their
agents, if not a highly-ranked alien warlord."

"Great, just great! We've got mad scientists, men
in black, emo kids in giant robots, and aliens we know nothing about!
What else is there we have to watch out for?" Dante exclaimed.

"Oh, plenty. Those are just the threats we
know about," the Boss said sarcastically.
"Now, it's time for you to get to work. If you have to call in
favors, blackmail them, or sabotage them, I don't care. Just get
them out of our hair so we can get more souls!"

The boss snapped his fingers, and Dante awoke back in
his office. He had a long day ahead of him, for sure.

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.